Thank you so much for reviews and comments. I promise, if you stick with me, you won't regret it - at least I think, you won't.

For everyone who's wondering about the time jump in the first chapter: There's a reason why I added the dates ;-) From now on we work our way to the point where Della finds the body in her bedroom.

Chapter 2 – Corpus Delicti

Washington, Thursday 18th October 1973

Perry Mason sat behind his desk and enjoyed his morning coffee, along with the morning paper. He loved the peace of his office in the early hours of the day before it was crowded with co-workers and, more or less, useful political friends.

To his annoyance, his morning routine was disturbed by the latest society headlines. The gossip column was filled with pictures of Richard Carlisle, who had been the guest of honor at a big fundraiser for disabled children. Carlisle was the man he was about to challenge in the upcoming elections. However, it wasn't so much the report about his rival that bothered him. Mason respected Richard Carlisle. What he didn't like was seeing Della at Carlisle's side. Della was married to Carlisle. Della was the mother of Carlisle's son. Della, who would have been Mason's wife, if things had gone differently and it hadn't been necessary for him to marry Laura. He had always seen it as some kind of poetic justice that Della became the wife of the man who turned out to be his biggest adversary - first in court and now in politics. For whatever reason, their paths were destined to cross one another. It was never easy and never would be.

He took a closer look at the pictures and ignored the small article about last night's fundraiser. He had only eyes for Della. His Della looked vibrantly beautiful as always. Her figure was as slim and fragile as he remembered it. Every inch of her was the perfect embodiment of beauty and style paired with steadfastness. Did she ever put a foot wrong? In the eyes of the press and everyone else (Laura aside), she was practically perfect in every way. Even when people started questioning Carlisle's potential as a leader due to his disability, Della's simple presence, at his side, silenced them. It was simple psychology and it worked.

Perry himself had never doubted Carlisle's qualities for a second. Before the fatal accident that caused his spinal cord injury and left him a wheelchair, the man had given Mason the hardest of times in court. If anything, his condition had made him more determined than ever - especially when it came to fighting for what he believed in, whether politically or socially. If it weren't for Della, the two men could have become friends, but Carlisle was only too aware of Della's and Perry's history. He knew if Perry hadn't married Laura, Della probably would never have agreed to become his wife in the first place. Therefore, Carlisle guarded Della like a hawk and frequently reminded Perry of what he'd lost when he chose Laura.

The coffee was cold and Perry threw the paper away. He had to make sure that he and Laura would be seen in public together. It was time to give Laura a reason to shine. It would keep her occupied and busy. She seemed single-minded lately and Perry feared that her nerves and loneliness would get the better of her.

His thoughts were interrupted when his secretary announced herself with a sharp knock at the door. Perry looked at the clock and smiled. It was exactly half past seven. Rebecca Powell was never late. She wasn't Della, when it came to wit and charm, but she was damn close to perfect in the way she handled his office. She was in her early thirties and the kind of woman that people used to overlook in a busy room. He didn't even know if she had a boyfriends or some other special someone waiting for her at home each night.

"Good morning, Perry!" With a bright smile, she handed him his mail. "There's another pile waiting for you on my desk, but I thought we'd start with the important stuff."

"Whatever you say, Becca." He gave her a warm smile and he waited until she had sorted a second pile of papers on her arm.

"Some letters you need to answer asap," she said as she handed him the stack. "We're receiving more donations than ever. You've got an invitation from the Governor for the opera… I know, I know…" she scolded when she saw the grimace on his face. "He loves Wagner and he has people's attention, so what can we do? There's also an invitation for a masquerade ball on Halloween. Everyone will be there, so I think you and Laura should go as well."

"Will Carlisle be there?" Perry asked as he checked the engraved invitation.

"Of course. And you bet he will want to make a good impression. I'm sure you saw the picture's from last night's event?" She pointed at the discarded newspaper in the waste basket and raised an amused eyebrow at him.

"I did." He answered gruffly.

"We certainly have to keep up with him even if it's only for publicity and the donations."

Perry sighed. This society circus was the part of politics he hated the most. "I guess, you're right, Becca. Anything else?"

She nodded. "We have this. I didn't dare to open it, because it explicitly says FAO…"

She gave Perry a thick brown envelope with his name on it. No stamp… no sender. 'Intriguing,' he thought as he turned the envelope over for further inspection.

"A ticking bomb?" he asked a bit amused and opened it with the letter opener Rebecca gave him.

"Hope it's another fat check. We can use it." Rebecca replied.

Mason peeked in and wrinkled his forehead. The letter contained a package of black and white pictures and, for a second, he was tempted to empty it on his desk, but then he froze and decided otherwise. A bad feeling overcame him, when he recognized a face he only knew too well.

"I think we will continue later, Becca," he said tonelessly and without facing her.

She didn't understand. "Pardon me?"

"I have to take care of something."

"And what about the meeting? Jack will be here in less than 20 minutes."

"Call him and tell him, it's canceled." Perry answered, already silently counting the seconds until she left the room.

"But Perry..."

"Do as I say!" He barked. Startled by his anger, Rebecca fled the room. Perry didn't care if she felt afraid, angry, or perhaps insulted. This was more important than letters, checks, or invitations for the opera and stupid balls. As soon as the door had closed behind her, he took a closer look at the photos. Shock and disbelief turned into disgust. After he finished looking at them, one by one, he was ready to be sick or to commit a murder. Whichever came first wasn't enough to release him from the agony he was suddenly feeling as he stuffed photo after photo back inside the envelope and placed them in his drawer.

He sat silently at his desk, closed his eyes, and let out a slow, measured breath. For every other man in his position, these photos presented a gift from God. They were the ammunition he needed to send Carlisle and his campaign straight to hell. To him, they only meant pain… pain because they were an insult to the woman he loved above anyone and everything else.

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Sacramento, Saturday 20th October 1973

It was the loneliest Saturday afternoon Della could remember. Richard was away in Los Angeles for a meeting with his campaign manager and Ruben spent the weekend with a friend from school on a fishing trip. At first she had looked forward to a quiet weekend, but now, she dreaded the empty house. Sure, she could call one or two of her lady friends, but the idea of spending an evening engaged in mindless gossip wasn't much to her taste either. Perhaps she should just spend her night with a good book and a glass of wine. No… she felt too restless to sit around doing nothing but sit in a chair with a book. She doubted she would be able to concentrate enough to get through one chapter anyway. Ever since the spooky incident four weeks ago, she couldn't stand to just sit around and do nothing. Every time she had too much time on her hands, she started to question herself and what happened to her during the hours before she had awoken in her car.

In her kitchen, she inspected the almost empty refrigerator and sat down to write a grocery list…pen in one hand, cigarette dangling in the other. So far, she had hidden her 'relapse' from Richard and Ruben, but she really needed to give up smoking again soon. She didn't want to be a bad example for Ruben and she certainly didn't want Richard asking questions she didn't want to answer. To him, her smoking habit was connected to Perry Mason and everything connected to Perry Mason caused friction between them.

The ringing doorbell startled her from her shopping list and wandering mind. She quickly disposed her cigarette in the ashtray and hid it again in the top shelf of her cupboard. With rushed steps, she made her way to the front door. As soon as she recognized her visitor through the peephole, she swallowed hard and bit her lower lip.

"This isn't a good idea," she said through the barely opened door.

"We need to talk."

They hadn't talked in years. She hadn't seen him for months. The last time they had been in the same room, it had been a formal dinner invitation that didn't require any kind of conversation between them. What did he want from her? Her life was complicated and confusing enough as it was. She didn't need him to make it worse.

"Please, Della. It's important."

"I'm not alone," she said as a last resource. "Ruben's here."

"You've always been a bad liar. I know you're alone."

The man was a pain in the neck. Before a neighbor noticed him, she quickly hurried him inside. To her slight amusement, he wore a cap and an old rain jacket that he'd worn when they had been out on a fishing trip. She always hated both pieces. Apparently, Laura hadn't been any more successful in getting rid of his old clothes than she had.

"You should have called," she said when she was leading him inside the living room.

"I didn't want you to come up with an excuse not to see me." He took off his cap and jacket and placed them over an armchair. As always, when he entered a room, he owned it. His presence in her house felt wrong and she hoped Richard never found out she allowed him inside. He would feel betrayed by the mere thought of it.

"I think we have to talk somewhere else," Perry said as he looked around. The living room was a bright room with two panoramic windows. "I don't want anyone to see me here."

Della crooked her left eyebrow. His demeanor annoyed her and she felt the need for a cigarette to deal with his presence.

"We can go into the library, " she suggested. The library was also Richard's study. Another sanctum. Another betrayal. She mentally added wine to her grocery list.

Again, Perry followed her. This time, he closed the distance between them and she felt the strength and heat radiating from his body. It caused a tickle all over her spine. How could it be that he still had such a physical impact on her? They hadn't been together in over ten years. Why was she never free of him?

The library was a cozy room with shelved walls, a sitting room suite in front of a fireplace and Richard's oversized mahogany desk as the focal point.

"So, this is where Richard is plotting his next move against me," Perry mused.

"He's not plotting against you," she answered. He didn't comment on her answer and, instead, replied, "I think we should sit down."

"Just say what you want and leave." To her growing annoyance, he sat down on the sofa and placed an envelope on the small coffee table. When he spoke to her again, his voice was gentler than before. He needed to break down the wall she so vehemently wanted to keep up.

"I don't like this any more than you, but I guess for a different reason. I'm not here to bother you, Della. I want to help you."

"Help me?" she repeated, a little confused. "I really don't know what you're talking about."

His eyes fell to the envelope on the table. "This was in my mail two days ago. I want you to see it."

Her eyes followed his and, all of the sudden, fear grew within her. It was the same fear she had experienced about a month ago. She crossed the room and, hands trembling, opened the small package.

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